


Chronicle

by fuckingtodd



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3823099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingtodd/pseuds/fuckingtodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hoenn Pokemon battle goes terribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chronicle

The crack of the thunder can be heard all throughout Dewford, and the machop lets out a soft cry as it collapses to the ground. Brawly smiles. “Whoah, wow! You made a much bigger splash than I expected! You swamped me! Okay, you’ve got me! Take this GYM BADGE!”

As he awards the shining second badge, you hesitate.  
\-----  
The beach is almost empty, rare in Hoenn. With so many trainers in the region, the peace of the waves rolling against the sand soothing you. Only one man stands, his rod outstretched into the sea. You make eye contact.  
The fisherman had brought out his Magikarp with such naivety, it seemed almost criminal to beat him down with your young pikachu. You grinned as you saw it splash with futility in the water, the fisherman’s grin cheerful and carefree. He knew his loss was eminent, but he was clearly in it for the fun of the fight, feeling alive as ever. A determined smile on your face, you cried out “Thunderbolt!”. Pointing at the man, you are excited for a sure win.  
But Pikachu misses. The short blast of thunder hits the man straight in the chest, missing the young magikarp altogether. The blast thrusts him backwards into the river his rod sat limply in, and as soon as he hits the water, it’s over. The electrical currents visibly run through his body, his screams sounding out until the deafening silence of his still body is all you can hear.  
The Fisherman is dead. As you fish his lifeless body out of the water, his signature red and white jacket littered with black streaks of charred cloth, you vomit. Your pikachu is unaware of it’s crime. You look at it in it’s eyes, the magikarp flopping with futility on the ground. You are both killers now, despite your Pokemon’s seeming indifference.

\-----

The grave is shallow and unmarked, deep in the forest. Dirt and grime cloaks your trainer’s jacket. Your Pikachu sits beside you, still smiling innocently. Does he know his crime and take joy in it, or does is he blissfully unaware? You think. You suppose it does not matter.

\-----

“Have you seen my father? He told me he was fishing near the northern beach, but he hasn’t come back since.” The boy asks you as you arrive in Rustboro. You brush past him, feeling dazed and confused. “Weirdo,” The boy mutters as he brushes past you deeper into the town. You can hear the subtle tone of sadness in his voice. In a way, he’s as confused as you are. You walk into the center of the city and sit down in the square, catching your breath. “Are you ok?” A generic-looking man asks. You try to respond, but no words come out. “I-I’m fine.” You stutter out, barely a whisper, the weight of the world upon your shoulders.


End file.
